


Gaps vol 1

by Kodawari



Series: Gaps [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, One Shot Collection, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 08:49:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18688147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kodawari/pseuds/Kodawari
Summary: The things that happened in between. I felt like Endgame was missing something.This is a collection of one-shots, not necessarily in chronological order. Each chapter is for a different character but whose voice it's in varies as they can overlap.(For some reason Ao3 won't let me edit the relationship tags? Idk what happened there or why it says Other. My bad, I mistook it to mean other as in it's not a ship fic but eh. That's what I get for messing around with stuff I know nothing about haha).





	1. Scott Lang

“Don’t go dad.” Cassy is in the middle of the living room, arms held over her chest. She’s scared. He understands. 

“I don’t want to, Cass.” He opens his arms and she leans into him. His little Cassy he only just found again. It’s a horrible irony. But he’s just not a dad, he’s a hero. He has a job to do. And if he can bring everyone back, he’s going to that job the best he can. It will cost him precious time with her, but if he pulls this off then they can have all the time left in the world. She pushes away sooner than he’d like. Her expression conveys disappointment. 

“Don’t--” He can’t finish the sentence. She’s not a little kid anymore. He’s sad he’ll never see her grow up into this. That whole portion of her life missing from his.

“I’ll keep in contact. And it won’t take long, I promise. This can bring them all back. I’m sure of it. I know.” His hope is strong but his mind wasn’t built for the math and physics and yadda yadda he just doesn’t get it. He needs the Avengers.

“But what if you _don’t_ come back again?” Her eyes start to water. 

“Shh, shh, no. I will,” He gentles her. “This isn’t like last time, Cass. This isn’t like last time. You have to trust me, ok? I did come back, didn’t I?”

She nods silently but the sob comes anyway. He holds her again. 

“I’ll come back. I love you, and so long as you love me I’ll always come back, Cass. Always.”


	2. Clint Barton

He couldn't stay in the house, not for any measurable amount of time. Everywhere he looked he saw them. They washed the dishes or watched TV or played with their Legos or cuddled up next to him. His eyes sting and when he tries to scream it comes out as a rasp.

Clint won’t stay here. He has to find answers. What if he's the only one left? What if everyone is dust? He gathers what he needs. He walks past the security boundary. Shoot him. He could care less. He hopes someone does so he can shoot back.

-

Natasha is the first to find him. He’s haggard and half starved. 

“Hey.” She shakes him when he makes a soft sound in response. His hand clasps hers and she knows what’s happened. She shakes her head, Barton, I’m sorry, so sorry. She draws him in for a hug. 

“Gone.” It’s all he manages to say.

-

He recuperates, eating slowly, taking his time to adjust. It can’t last, not with what he’s seeing. They acknowledge each other. 

“Who are you?” He asks, because a raccoon standing up on two legs has to be a someone. Or he’s hallucinating. Nat, where are you and what is this thing. Great. I’m losing it. 

“Rocket,” says Rocket, arms crossed. “You gonna finish that?” He juts his chin at the bread roll.

Clint weakly hands it to him and two paws rise in response to hold it. He nibbles away. If it weren’t so creepy it’d be cute. 

“Tell me Tony made you. He finally went insane.”

Rocket munches and talks at the same time “No one made me. There’s only one of me. Get used to it. Your friends love me.” 

Clint purses his lips. “Yeah, there’s only one of you for sure. I hope.”

Rocket’s shoulders shake, and Clint realizes he’s laughing. 

“Don’t worry. Ain’t nothing like me.”

-

When Clint finally finds his answers, when the news filters in from around the globe, he decides. He decides he can't live with them in their fortress. He can't live with the anger boiling inside him, a dragon growing day by day. He has to hurt someone the way he was hurt. Who the hell is Thanos? Who the fuck does he think he is? Shame he can't kill him. He's not here. Coward. 

But there's others. They exist only to hurt and destroy other families. He’ll destroy them. They'll stand in just fine. Moving, tangible targets.

The systematic eradication of major crime organizations starts in his own state. He moves to the next one, then the next, then when the USA is clean, he moves on to other countries. He weeds the garden with a terrifying patience.

He was never a humanitarian. He loved people but he wasn't trained for that sort of work. Let the Avengers figure it out.

He's making the world a better place in the only way he knows how.


	3. James Rhodes

“I got eyes on it.” Rhodes approaches the device that's is beeping innocuously on the asphalt, amid the hundreds of cars. It's not much different from all the other abandoned cell phones. Shit, it’s freaky even thinking about it. He has to harden himself against all the shelled out vehicles, the houses. People can’t let go. He hears the shouted names of the missing in the streets. 

Only this isn’t a cell phone. It’s a…

“Pager?”

“Repeat that.” That’s Cap on the other end. Speaking of which, the symbol, the star reminds him of the man he’s speaking to. He’s not sure he likes this. 

“It’s a pager. What was Fury doing with this?”

-

When it stopped transmitting they all held their breath. Ok, now what. What was Fury’s ace in this game? The ace as it turned out was a woman. Who somehow got past all their security and asked directly for Fury. There was a standoff. Everyone was raw and there was going to be blood if someone didn’t explain things, fast. Leave it to Cap to calm things down.

“You know him?” Totally reasonable tone, posture confident but not threatening. Brow a mix between concern and wariness. You’d have to be a real bad guy to want to hurt him. 

“We worked together. I asked him to only use that if there was an emergency.” She’s got that tenacious disposition that doesn't seem inclined to mess around, but the way she said ‘we worked together’ belies something. She’s worried. 

Rhodes isn’t sure he appreciates her approach. She’s not the only one who’s upset at recent happenings.

“If you’ve worked with Fury how come we never heard of you?” he asks, skeptical. 

She narrows her eyes. “I’ve been busy. The rest of the galaxy needs protection too, not just Earth.”

Steve’s brow uncreases. “You can get up there?”

“All the way.” She never takes her gaze off of Rhodes. 

“I’ll fill you in,” says Cap. “But we need your help. There’s someone missing and we think he’s still alive.”

-

Rocket mumbles something and disappears into Stark’s work room. He’s keen on his task and asks to be left undisturbed. Sometime later, he emerges from the it, mumbling and pushing buttons on what looks like the pager albeit modified. The device he’s conjured up within a few hours is impressive, if it can do what he says it can. He puts it into Captain Danver’s palm. 

“That will take you to the ship. What you find…That’s something else.” His black eyes glitter as he entrusts his friend’s life to someone they barely know.

“Bring them back regardless,” says Cap. “He’s one of ours, and she is too. We don’t leave anyone behind.”

Danvers and Rogers look short of saluting each other. Apparently she’s in the air force too, or was. Rhodes decides he should salute her. Its got none of the decorum and all of the desperateness in it. 

“Blue skies,” he says. 

She salutes back.


	4. Carol Danvers

Danvers follows the trail. Past the moon then Mars then Venus. It takes her all the way to the Saturn system. They’ve gone very far from home. It’s a small craft she happens upon. Dead. Hopefully the crew isn't. She’s not afraid of what she’ll find. She’s afraid of what the team’s reaction will be. She slows to a stop before the window, her light reaching in and searching.

There’s a man, sitting upright. His face is skull-like. It may be too late…

His eye open and he covers his face. She smiles. Thank god. 

“I’ve found you, Tony Stark. Everything will alright.”


	5. Rocket

Ashes are ashes. Rocket thought he'd hang onto them, but you can't grow a new Groot from that. You can't grow anything back from this.

The next few days are a blur. In the intervening time between Wakanda and the Avengers compound there was massive damage control being done. But only after the mourning ended, and he still thinks even then the mourning will never stop.

Either no one talks or they cry. There's no in between. Rocket finds a log and sits under it, curled up. He falls into the later camp and he doesn't care if no one finds him or does. He'll die among the ashes. He failed his son. 

A sound breaks the silence in the dark. Thor found him. Rocket sniffs away his silent tears. A captain doesn't cry in front of others. You don’t show your true colors or you lose. He didn't make the rules but he'll follow them because others need him to.

“C'mon, Thor.” His voice cracks, he doesn't care. “We rest later. We got work to do.”

The thunder god says nothing but he stands up eventually.

Good. Good. Rocket knows he can help. He won't lose anyone else. That's what a good captain does.


	6. Thor

Thanos is dead. He killed him. It's over. Just a swing of the axe and that's that. Thor isn't proud. There's no victory in coming in last and being given the gold regardless. It's as if the universe felt pity for him. Pity never did anyone good.

He raises Stormbreaker. Time to bring Asgard home.

Time to be the king he never wanted to be.

-

“Uh, Val, look at this. Something's incoming. Fast.” Korg points at the screen. It statics and spits sparks. The whole ship is in rebellion against its purpose. The faster they find a planet to land on, the better.

Days ago they escaped with a sizable number of Asgardians and assorted others in their small escape craft. That was days ago. Now they're so few you'd know everyone's name and their story if you could get over your grief to listen. They jettisoned half of their number some time ago in the form of brown ash. Thanos.

The Valkyrie, Brunhilde, strides up to the screen. Whatever it is she's ready. Or she thought she was.

Thor never makes eye contact with them, not once. He talks slowly, tiredly.

“How many?” he asks, finding faux interest in the sparking panel.

“Half of us,” she replies, adds with reluctance "Not counting the rest." Half of the Asgardians. Who knows how many of the other species. She's afraid if she looks at him wrong he'll shatter. This state he's in...it's terrifying. Not at all the Thor she knew on Sakaar. It scares her. Her, one of the bravest warriors in the galaxy.

He makes a noncommittal sound and his eyes glance over them. It's all that's left of Asgard, a civilization that stood proud for eons. Reduced to this. He wants to laugh.

“Come,” he says, and the Asgardians gather around him. The others show hesitancy. “All of you. You're all Asgard now.” Whether or not his grim tone translates to their language, they sense some darkness within that makes them second guess their savior. They have no choice.

The Bifrost opens on them all. The ship is left abandoned in the lifeless void of space.

-

Val tries to talk to him in his own way. She’s not going to force the issue, but it becomes apparent that the more she tries to act as if there isn’t one -for his sake- the more Thor slips away. 

“I saw all these people die,” he says to her during one of their non-talks. He just stares into the ocean and gestures as if he’s seeing them now, fading to nothing. 

-

Thor delegates the founding of New Asgard to her. Only when the authorities show confusion over the situation and throw up roadblocks does he get involved. He shows up to the small office on a gray, rainy day. And everyone notices the storms too. More than usual and of the more violent kind. His black armor is rain-soaked and shines with the reflection of the fluorescent lights. He looks too unreal for the place, too legendary to possibly be there. But he is, and the descendants of the people who worshiped his family are stunned. Descendants who remembered the Aesir's names, who took their language and their culture. They pushed that all aside for modern atheism. Until now. Now, they make it clear that Norway has plenty of space, always did. Plenty more nowadays. There will be no problem, none at all.

-

New Asgard is built upon old stones. The Avengers visit once or twice, Rocket more than that but soon the visits taper off. Thor finds himself staring into the dusty family room of his home at night when Korg and Meik finally find time to sleep. He's glad they asked to move in. He wasn't sure where he was during the first year, a dark place yes, but it's nice to have friends who understand him. They don't mind or judge his drinking, or the way the house has fallen into disrepair. His fault, all this. He mocked fate by asking it what more he had to lose. Himself. That’s what. But Valkyrie has things under control, he knows. It's “so cool”. He scoffs at that and pops a cap off another beer. 

What's one more anyway.


	7. Nebula

His name is Tony Stark. He’s a genius on his planet, or close to one if she’s any judge. He’s trying not to cry she thinks. Cries when she's not looking. Nebula is a cold comfort- it’s not her place. They get the ship into the air. She didn’t mind taking orders from him. He’s got all of Quill’s sass but none of the recklessness. It’s calculated. She respects that. 

When things get quiet, he suggests they do something together. She’s suspicious. What could they possibly do? He’s in no condition to spar, and she doesn’t want to anyway.

“Games,” he says. He picks up a food pack. First time he tried the alien rations he nearly threw up. 

“I don’t play.”

He spreads his hands. “I don’t either. It will be fun.”

He gathers some junk. Looks like the trash panda’s stuff. Silver triangles. 

“Football. They have that in space, I know they do. Most popular game in the galaxy.”

“Never heard of it.”

“That’s why we’re going to Earth. I’ll show you everything you’ve been missing out on.” It’s a false promise. He’s trying to remain calm, she knows. He lost his boy. 

“Fine.”

So they play.

-

This is Terra, Quill's planet of origin. It’s a dump from the air, thanks to her father. So many other planets are like this now. After they met the strange women wreathed in light, it seemed only moments before they landed at the Avengers compound he spoke about.

Tony, hanging onto life with that stubborn tenacity she'd come to admire, was taken from her by a tall man with blonde hair and surrounded by his people, hugged by a woman who must be his mate. Now she sits on the steps of Quill's ship. If she dared called Tony a friend she's not so sure now. He'll forget her like everyone else does. She's used to it, not sure why it hurts.

A paw is offered to her. She takes it.

-

She and Rocket take a walk. It's night and quiet, makes sense with what's happened. It's the stillness of shock that makes her tense. Or should. She feels numb. That is until Rocket's keen senses cause him to pause, perhaps hearing a rustling in the nook between the compound's walls. He freezes, sniffs the air.

"Oh no...no no no no no!"

He stares down the dark, unsure. Whatever he's seeing that's making him emotional, Nebula doesn't feel like she can be arsed to deal with right now. He has tendency to get upset over broken down machines more so than hurt people. Maybe why he cares about her.

Still, they're all fragile at the moment even if she doesn't want to admit it so she humors him.

"What is it?"

He gestures with a limp paw. She illuminates the situation for the both of them. At first, there's only little orbs side by side reflecting back green, tracers streaking in the dark with a heavy air of guilt. She points the light directly at them...

Rockets. Lots of Rockets. Crawling on all fours and eerie, even to her, without his trademark snark about their faces.

“No,” he says again and she hears the disbelief in his voice. Pain? “Come...come on! Seriously? I come from...This!?”

The Rockets sorting through the trash and glancing up at them with coy tilts of the head make for a disappointing origin. He's one of a kind for sure but she thinks this fits, really. What did Quill call his kind again?

“Congratulations,” she says in that flat I-don't-really-care-but-I'm-trying voice “You've found your people. Trash pandas.”

Rocket shakes his head then runs at them, yelling, snarling, and for a moment there's some spark of recognition in their dull animal eyes. That quickly turns to confusion and they scatter, leaving an empty can or two spinning in their wake.

Rocket's figure stands starkly against rubbish heap in her light. His inner turmoil manifests in a sigh, but he's right back to himself in a breath.

“Get that thing out of my eyes,” he grouses, paw shielding what it can. He skulks back along her way, muttering. She swears his voice is strained with held back sorrows.

“Stupid trash pandas. I'm not whatever the hell those things are. I can't believe it. Dumb animals...I hate this planet.”

Nebula doesn't see what the problem is. At least he has _something_ of his species left. But she'll keep trying to be a friend to him. She's trying, because Tony tried even when she initially resisted his kindness. She'll try even if he eventually forgets her.


	8. Tony Stark

He thought he'd died when the light slowly melted through the black. An angel appeared. Glowing, smiling with something like concern for him of all people. You poor thing, it seemed to say from beyond the glass. We'll get you home soon. Stay with us. Rest later.

“But,” he wanted to say, couldn't because he felt his stomach along with his energy sap out of him ages ago. “I'm an atheist. I don't believe in you.” And because he'd been able to think that he knew he wasn't dead. Heaven wouldn't have him anyway.

Nebula didn't smile. Or she did. She was like the Mona Lisa. You could never tell. He felt her hand on his shoulder the whole ride home.

-

The wedding is short, small. It was supposed to be a massive once in a century event, but they’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime. Everyone turns up. Cap is a cachet more than anything. They’re Avengers but that’s the only thing that holds them together. It looks more like a funeral than a wedding. 

-

He and Pepper hold each other in the early morning light. The cabin expands and creaks the heat of the new day. Nice housey sounds. 

“It’s cozy here,” he says. 

“Hmm, I think I want to stay here forever. Forget the apartment.”

“You never ask for much. And even if you did, I’d listen.”

Pepper leans over and kisses him. He drinks her in.

“I have to go soon. Just-” he pauses as she gives him a glare. “Just for a few hours. It’s important. I owe it to him.” 

She can’t be mad when she remembers what he means. The conviction that is etched into his features makes her proud. He’s changed so much yet not at all. A part of him never changes and she doesn’t think it ever will. It’s why she loves him. 

-

Tony doesn't want to do this. He wished he didn't have to but that's the lot that's given to those who remain. A duty or something, Steve had said as much in one of his lectures and Tony didn't want to hear any of it. But this, this stung him. He had to do this personally. He'd think of a fitting song or movie to compare his dilemma to, but he finds his mind has sobered up from the cheap flash and splendor of worldly trivia. It's all trivia now. Billions of lives. Gone. He hates it. He's sure things will get better. They always do. Always. If they don't, he'll find a way.

But right now...right now he's wearing a black suit and Happy is in the car, looking sorry over the whole situation. It was so hard explaining to him what had happened. How is he going to do this? He gives speeches, he doesn't console.

He gulps. A school boy about to talk in front of class. He only felt scared like that once when he _was_ a school boy. After that, it was a piece of cake. Took top marks. Held one of the most profitable businesses on Earth. It's just all so meaningless now.

He rings the buzzer.

Waits.

He looks back at Happy you _sure the database was correct?_ , his expression quires, but he ran the search himself. He finds he doesn't want there to be a response and he feels horrible for thinking that.

The door opens. He heads up. Happy can't help now.

May Parker, pale and looking like she hasn't slept in a month, knows almost immediately. But almost isn't fast enough. She trembles and she looks right through him. It's haunting. She says something. He says something. It's a pointless exchange.

He holds her. They sit on the floor in front of the door. She sobs for a long while, but her tears aren't acute. She'd been crying for a long, long time before he showed up.

-

Tony had a dream once he swore was real. So very, very real. He told Pepper about it, a good dream. Then the world went to hell.

“Dreams really do come true.”

He takes her in. She's beautiful. He has no words for it. Nothing he’s ever created, no new mathematical equation, no scientific discovery, is capable of eclipsing the one thing he'd call a miracle. Whether you believed in a higher power or not, holding your child in your arms puts that all on the back burner.

“Morganoo,” he coos to her, rocking her gently as he paces the floor. Pepper gets some much needed sleep. It was a long delivery. He could tell the nurses and doctors wanted to stay, to take in a new life birthed in this wasteland of the world. He'd show her off later. They all needed it.

“I'll give you whatever you want, all you have to do is look cute, ok? It's not much work. You're doing great.” His smile is unbidden and he's pleasantly surprised by it. It's a chance to start anew.

She's too young to understand. He's going to do this right. He's wanted to ever since he was a young boy, wanting his father to get back from work to simply acknowledge him. He's got this.

He'll be the best father ever.


	9. Steve Rogers

Steve can’t remember what he said. 

For an eternity they stood there, a frozen tableau of complete loss. It was palpable. A stranger could sense the tsunami of their emotion and they didn’t have to speak a word of what had happened. Only there weren’t any strangers. They all lost. 

Someone must have moved but it wasn’t him. Someone said something but it wasn’t him. Someone got them all together and led them back but it wasn't him.

Whoever Steve Rogers was in that time died soon after. 

Natasha hugged someone, and that was him. He felt a warmth on his cheek. He buried his face into her neck. They never lost. 

-

He shaves the beard off. He’s back. He didn’t think it was going to be like this. The beard has to go even if he wants to keep it, but people need a face they can recognize. 

That’s his duty. Never to himself, always to others.

-

Being a captain counts for nothing if you have no one to direct. What remains of the Earth’s heroes is spread thin. There's still a lot of suffering in the world, but it's a tired suffering for right now. If he’s capable of thinking about it without feeling righteous anger it's sickeningly peaceful. It's what happens after any major, horrific event. People put aside their differences, help each other, or they at least stop harming for just long enough. It's the feeling after a storm passes by and the world is covered in its tears. It won't last. It will get ugly soon.

He won’t let it come to that, so he does what he does best. Inspire.

“You asked me to be here,” says Rhodes “but I'm not sure what for.” He observes their surroundings. Some old meeting place for war vets or something. Looks like it hasn't been used in a while.

Steve is already seated on a foldable metal chair and gestures for his friend to join him.

“Thought it would help attract a crowd.”

“You can't do that by yourself anymore?” Rhodes says, chuckling.

Rogers smiles despite himself. You have to find happiness somewhere.

“I'll stay here as long as need be, door's open all night. We just have to make it look welcoming until we get regulars.”

“I'd've picked the bar in that case.”

Rogers mentally concedes to that but says anyway. “They'll come. Trust me.”

“I do. Them? Lot of stuff went wrong, what if they're mad?” Rogers’ friend is only trying to be realistic.

“I can handle the punches. Might be therapeutic for some,” he replies, but the joke falls flat as Rhodes makes a face as if to say, _man, how far we've fallen._

The concept of narrative irony isn’t foreign to Rogers, but he thinks it’s too cynical. Everything happens for a reason, so that’s why he smiles welcomingly at the arrival just as he imagines what it would be like to be a stand in punching bag. 

“This the therapy session?”

Rhodes looks up. A shorter man with gray hair and a sharp nose with hands tucked in his jacket pockets approaches them. He's uncertain, but Steve knows from the look in his eyes that he wants the help. Not the type that requires punching away your problems. Still, it's not everyday Captain America holds a group session. If the man were were mad, he could do some real damage with the right weapon. But that's what a suspicious person thinks, and Steve isn't one of those.

“You're in the right place. Runs from 5 to 7, but we're willing to change the time to suit people's needs. I'm Steve.” He holds out his hand after he's stood up. The man considers the offering but comes around to it, the corner of his mouth twitching with the briefest of smirks.

“Thanks...Captai--Steve. Jeremy. Uh, where do we begin?” He takes a seat following Steve's lead.

He spies Rhodes out of the corner of his eye looking from their first and possibly only member, to him. _Yeah, where do we start?_

“Anywhere you want. This is about you. I'm here to listen and encourage. It's the least I can do.”

Rhodes nods, mouth a line. He's right. It's the least they can do. The most they did didn't do much.

Not much at all.


	10. Bruce Banner

All the self-help books in the world are no help you if you don’t listen to the message. Bruce tried everything short of a quack. They wouldn’t really understand his problem. 

His problem is around 7 feet tall, green and very angry. 

“We can’t do this anymore man!” He paces the yoga matted floor, catching the after scent of burnt incense in his nostrils and skulks with his arms tucked under his shoulders, thumbs sticking out. The self-hug is really only for himself. “We’ve tried everything! You want to be a big baby about it, fine, but I don’t want to hear squat from you anymore. You don’t care about your friends. You’re useless.” He groans at the growing sense of negativity welling up from somewhere in the primitive part of his brain. “You don’t care about me!” 

Hulk grunts.

This approach isn’t working and it hasn’t been since Wakanda. He’s smarter than this. With science. People are another thing entirely, and Hulk is just angrier people. He hates angry. He wants it like he does cancer and that’s what Hulk is to him. He sighs. People... He misses Thor. Thor could be a...well, Thor, but he knew how to talk people up and make them feel good about themselves in that jocky Thor-ish way. Sometimes it verged on an unintentional insult, but that’s--

BANNER STOP

Bruce tenses up and cringes. Hulk gets upset when he thinks about Thor in what he perceives to be a negative manner. He takes everything too literally. 

“Shut up,” he whispers like someone nursing a migraine. Fine, he’ll sooth him. “Thor loved you somehow and I just--wish I could.” He's surprised by a lightness in his heart when he says it, so he launches off that branch. Where he’ll land is anyone’s guess. 

“He cared about both you and me for different reasons, but we’re the same, I don’t know, mind, body? Side? Right? He didn’t care. He saw the best of both worlds in us.” He feels a lump in his throat when he says that and isn’t sure where on earth that came from. It’s a sentimental thing to say but, well, he’s always been sentimental for a scientist. He really needs someone to lean on, someone strong. Someone who's not another person, because he really, really needs to deal with this himself. Or not. Maybe he's not alone.

Hulk says nothing.

“...Hulk? Man? You gonna stop pouting now?”

It’s silent. He’s listening. Bruce dampens his excitement. This is too good to be true. 

“I’m...sorry for what I said. You do care about people. And me. That’s why you’re so upset, because you care that much. Like me.” He waits and listens, looking up at the healing crystal chandelier in anticipation of the answer. 

“You’re not a cancer. You’re just the strong side of me that I don’t want to admit I have. I don't want to be afraid of you anymore.”

-

Hulk didn’t come back for the rest of the day. When he slept, he dreamt the best dream in all the world but couldn’t remember an iota of it when he woke up. He knuckles the grit of sleep out of his eye with a green hand.

Green hand.

“HULK!?” 

He rises out of the bed or what was left of it and crashes into the chandelier which falls onto him and in turn he blindly swings and slips into all things meant to bring inner peace.

He expects to be angry about it, but he’s only mildly peeved while being green. It’s his turn to be silent now. It builds up until he can’t help but shout.

“Oh, we did it buddy! We did it!. I love you man. I'm so happy. Wait until I tell Thor. Just you wait!"


	11. Natasha Romanoff

Nat is sitting in the rain. There's no birds now. The family that used to live here is gone. She found the eggs unhatched and rotting. 

She used to watch them in what little down time she could scrap together, just relaxing in the small garden of the Compound, recuperating and reflecting. Birds are always supposed to be there in the background, and she thinks they were an ill fitting theme song to her life. Russia, Europe, the US, wherever. Their happy little chirps shouldered between the hustle and bustle of a humanity that forgot what innocence was. She loved them for that. Not feeling guilt over something…Having a family to sing to. Simply existing without worry.

-

She’s at the shooting range. She switches the cartridges like a soulless machine. She only sees him. Never misses. Only stops when she’s an inch from the target, never realizing she was panting with rage until the echoes of destruction fade. She rips off the ear muffs, stares into the massive hole she’s made. She wonders where Clint went. She won’t let his anger become hers. She cannot let it get that far. The red in her ledger can’t haunt her forever. There’s a pang in her chest. She aches for what Clint has lost. It wasn’t just his family. 

-

Captain Danvers is the only woman she’s been able to actually get alone in ages, and by extension, she’s the person she wants to talk to most. The guys are great with helping her through the grief and vice versa, but the ratio between her willingness to open up about it and theirs is low. 

“Danvers.”

The Captain is still in her Kree uniform, flipping through charts. The missing. She turns to her, a welcoming if not outright look of ‘I’m listening’ on her face. Intuitively, she knows she’s in need of some comfort. Nat can sense it.

“Carol works. What’s up?” Her voice is much lighter than you’d expect from someone with that much power. Too much time around the manliest men on Earth would ingrain that stereotype into anyone’s mind.

The corner of Nat’s mouth quirks. Where to start. She isn’t used to this, not with another woman. “All this. It’s hard.” She feels inadequate in some way she can’t explain. It’s been too long. 

“It is.” Carol flips away the chart. “But you look like you’ve been doing pretty good despite that.” She’s trying to be encouraging.

“I hate being strong sometimes,” Nat admits, and to someone she doesn't really know. She’s supposed to be strong. Empowered, but she’s only human. That's the inadequacy. Letting herself be honest. Her whole life has been full of lies.

Carol works her lips, thinking. “That depends on who you’re being strong for. Yourself, or the guys?” 

“The world. It’s always watching. How do you deal with it? I thought I knew once upon a time.” And this woman has the whole galaxy watching. Nat brushes back a short blonde strand that’s gone astray. She’s going to let it grow out, there’s no point hiding anymore. 

“That’s the big question.” Carol’s hand goes to her own hair, mirroring her. “Staying strong only works if you integrate what you’ve learned. When was the last time you did that?”

The former spy shrugs. “I haven’t had the time.”

Carol’s features soften. “Then we’ll make some. A day off. Just us.”

Nat raises a brow. “Girls day out?” Post-apocalypse?

The captain smiles. “I haven’t had once since the 90s. I think I want to get an update.” She flips her hair back. The heaviness that Nat bears lifts, if only for a moment. 

She can think about being strong later, whatever the hell that’s supposed to look like. She only wants someone to talk to right now. 

-

Okoye phones in exactly on the dot. That women won’t let a silly thing like a timezone get in her way. She’s hard-eyed and wants to get to business, now. Nat approves. 

Captain Danvers makes a physical appearance soon after, said something about having to stop help out somewhere. Can’t fault her for that. The raccoon and the android show up out of the blue, striding in as if they belong there. She’s surprised at that. She thought they’d leave for whatever home they had. But is there any point in going back now?

“Looks like we’re all here,” she says. Rhodes stands by her side, taking in their small team. Small, but determined. 

“Rogers isn’t joining us?” Asks Danvers. 

Nat hides her disappointment. “No. He’s always there if we need him but he’s going to remain local for the time being.” 

Danvers nods, taking that in stride. No one’s seen Banner in awhile either. Two hard hitters out of the game. And Thor has his own people to look after besides.

“What’s on the agenda? Wakanda will not wait all day.” Okoye says as she eyes the raccoon. Yeah, she still isn’t used to it either. For the short time Barton was with them they got along like no one’s business. She shouldn’t think of him right now. 

“I don’t make speeches, I’m not Rogers, so I’m keeping this simple. Avenging. As of right now you’re all Avengers. This is home base. If one of us needs aid or sees something going south and can’t help, we call in who we can. Are we in agreement?” 

There’s nods and grunts. No respectful silence nor whoops of pride. The Avengers reborn, everyone. 

“We’re the only defense the world has left. Let’s make that count for something.” 

She used to think love was for children. Maybe that form of love, but the ties that bind them together can't be anything less.


	12. Okoye

The tremors ceased after some time. Indeed, there was nothing they could do about it. It was a natural process. What was Natasha thinking, taking care of it? She did not mean to be harsh with her, but if she was hoping for that man Tony Stark to figure it out...nature is not mocked. She realigns her thoughts. Ramonda’s grip strengthens around her arm. 

Time and motherhood. The two will never reconcile. That’s what it means to bring life into the world. Okoye put that aspect of herself aside when she took up guardianship of the throne, but her Queen’s pain is her own. To lose both a son and a daughter? The Ancestors must have truly loved them. Shame, for she loves her Queen more than even them. And she would have words with them if she could.

She’d have more than words for the monster who did this. 

-

Ramonda sleeps in her quarters. Heavy, the night descends on Wakada. Okoye can bear it better than the daylight. You cannot see the battlefield that well when its dark. 

He was there, hand in hers, then gone like so many leaves in the wind. Her king. It was a blow that struck her in the gut, and when she found Shuri gone too? Ramonda saved her and she did likewise. They must persevere. The throne still stands.

They must…

She allows the tear. Just the one before she wheels around, spear aimed directly at the throat of the intruder.

Who _dares?_ This day would come, she knew, and she'll meet it with the defiance due it.

“Not necessary. We’re on the same side.”

He’s white, evidence enough he doesn't belong here. And...floating? The man descends, his hands glowing with some strange energy. 

But she barely pays him attention when T’Challa and Shuri appear from behind his long red cape. 

The words barely escape her throat. “My king!” She should bow. She forgets how to.

Impossible. She must have died. Many times she wished she had or thought she did. This was hell. A nightmare. This could not be real. 

“Okoye,” his voice is as rich and as noble as she remembers. Memory is such a poor substitute for real life. “Will not my friend embrace me?” And his voice is the only thing she hears above the beating of her heart. 

“So dramatic!” Shuri rushes up to her, arms around her waist before she can respond.

“T’Challa, Shuri,” she says the names with a mere whisper. 

She cries despite the princess’ light teasing of the whole situation. Bless this child. T’Challa joins them, sandwiching her between them. Her king has returned. Her beloved king.

“My children. I have missed you.”


End file.
